Smiling at Crocodiles
by DaisyBell84
Summary: Shortly after the Purge, another user is accidentally transported to the Grid. What will CLU make of this one, and how will it help him in his quest to eliminate Kevin Flynn?


**# One #**

He stood on the observation deck, his gaze fixed on the white beam of light that funnelled into the sky above the Sea of Simulation, oblivious to his surroundings. It had been a thousand cycles since the portal last opened and although the sight was dazzling, it also filled him with anxiety. As long as it remained open there was a danger of Flynn escaping into the user world. If that was allowed to happen, he would waste no time in hitting the delete key on his renegade creation.

"_**You are CLU."**_

"_**You will create the perfect system."**_

Beneath his calm exterior CLU's circuits burned with resentment. Resentment, and something that felt uncomfortably close to failure. But he had not failed. He had followed Flynn's instructions to the letter and this was his reward: a rule undermined by factions still loyal to their false god, whose fascination with the ISOs had threatened to destroy everything they had worked so hard to achieve. Everything _**he**_ had abandoned. Flynn had not been seen on the Grid since Bostrum had fallen. He had become the ghost in the machine, haunting the Outlands, a crackle of dissent that CLU was unable to silence. Perfection could not be achieved as long as Kevin Flynn walked free. It was just a matter of locating him…

Forcing himself to look away from the portal, CLU scanned the glowing gridlines of his city, resenting the feeling of invasion and uncertainty its opening had caused. Somewhere out there was an unknown quantity. A hacker. Alan One, perhaps, or another ENCOM user looking for their absent leader.

They would not be successful. CLU would find them first.

In the distance, he saw the blinking orange lights of a Recognizer preparing to land in the Sector that contained Flynn's arcade. He allowed himself a smile.

"Get me an update on Sector 15."

Ever eager to please, Jarvis tapped the datascreen in front of him. "The user has been located, Your Excellency! As we speak it is being taken –"

"What is it?"

Several more taps, then silence.

"You know how I feel about being kept waiting," CLU said in a warning tone.

"Of course – it's just, I – there seems to be a problem with the user, Your Excellency…" His fingers danced nervously across the datastream as he tried to formulate a response to the confusing information that was being received. "It is … damaged in some way."

"I will be the judge of that," CLU snapped. "Bring it to me. Now!"

"Yes, Your Excellency."

CLU resisted the urge to pace as he watched the Recognizer take off again, beginning its steady glide back to the arena where his headquarters were located. It was good that the user had been captured but he must take care not to become complacent. For one thing, Flynn would almost certainly be aware of its presence by now: even the Outlands were illuminated by the portal's light. CLU wondered how this would affect his creator's actions. Of course the logical thing would be to make a break for the portal, to take advantage of the distraction caused by the other user, but CLU knew from bitter experience that logic did not often enter into Flynn's decision making process. Also, his frequent absences from the Grid during its early cycles had proven that the bonds between users were as strong as they were unfathomable.

Perhaps he would even stage a rescue attempt, although CLU could easily turn that to his own advantage…

Another possibility presented itself, one that was not so advantageous. Flynn claimed to have kept the Grid's existence a secret from his friends in the user world, in a secure location that was separate from the ENCOM mainframe. It therefore seemed unlikely that another user could have entered the Grid without his guidance, which meant that Flynn must have developed some way of communicating with the outside world, and if that was true—

"They've arrived, Your Excellency."

Even as Jarvis spoke, feet could be heard marching down the long corridor that led to the throne room. Remembering his trump card, CLU rezzed his helmet to conceal his resemblance to Flynn before turning to face the doors. They whooshed open to reveal his prisoner.

Or what was left of it.

For a nanocycle CLU simply stared, his smirk fading as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing.

Damaged, Jarvis had said. _Miniaturised_ would have been a more accurate description.

It was female, he thought, although its chest was flat compared to the program equivalent, its form devoid of curves. Blue eyes peered at him warily through a tangle of dark hair. CLU could not understand why those eyes were so familiar – nor why the creature was so small. From his place on the slightly raised observation deck it barely reached his knees. What could possibly be the purpose of something so small and helpless? Oddly, it did not appear to be scared of him. Neither was its attitude defiant. CLU watched as its gaze slid away from the dark glass of his helmet to glance around the room, its face laid open with a mixture of fascination and confusion and something else he couldn't quite place. A kind of vacancy, like a program under the control of an external system.

CLU stepped down from the observation deck and was pleased to see a flicker of fear from the user. It took a nervous step backwards, fists tugging at the loose, oddly patterned garment that covered its upper body.

"Identify yourself," he demanded.

"I…" A quizzical frown puckered the user's brow. "Am I dreaming?"

CLU's head tilted to one side. _Dream_. A cherished aspiration, ambition or ideal. Flynn had spoken of dreams in this sense. CLU's programming included other definitions, although he lacked the context and experience to fully understand them.

_Dream_. An unrealistic or self-deluding fantasy.

_Dream_. A series of images that appear in the mind of somebody who is sleeping, often a mixture of real and imaginary characters, locations and events.

Assimilating this data with the tone of the user's question, CLU understood exactly what type of dream she was referring to, although he had never experienced one himself. He also understood the insinuation that the Grid was not real in comparison to the user world. Anger coursed through his circuits and his fists clenched, aching to show her just how real and solid the Grid could be, but he controlled the impulse. It would not benefit him to damage the user. Not for the time being, at least.

"Is that what you think?"

"No … I don't remember falling asleep. I remember – I was in the arcade. It was an accident. I was pressing buttons and … and …" She looked around in wonder, as though seeing her surroundings for the first time. "I think I'm in the Grid."

CLU's eyes narrowed, remembering what Jarvis had said about the user being damaged. It certainly appeared that way from its disjointed, high-pitched communication style. A lesser program might have been taken in by this act, but CLU knew exactly what she was doing, trying to play him for a fool.

"Is that so?" he asked, feigning nonchalance. "And what do you know about the Grid?"

"Gram says it isn't real. She says it's just .. just a story…"

CLU sighed. "You know, I'm getting very tired of this game. Are you going to tell me what you're doing here, or do I have to hurt you?"

"It was an accident!"

"You're lying."

"Please – this – this doesn't feel like a dream…" The user was panicking now. Her eyes filled with moisture, and she squeezed them shut, shaking her head vigorously. She opened them again and surveyed the room with an expression of mounting panic. "I want to wake up. Why can't I wake up? Gram says that nightmares can't hurt you 'cause when you—"

Losing patience with her tricks, CLU signalled a nearby sentry, who prodded her between the shoulder blades with his tazered staff. She fell to the ground with a shriek of pain.

"Does that answer your question?" he asked, circling the user, who began to emit a strange whimpering sound that grated on his circuits. Some kind of user distress signal. A sign of weakness, of imperfection. "I have to say, I was expecting something a little more threatening," he continued. "Tell me. Are you the entire rescue party?"

The user mumbled something, but it was too garbled for CLU to make out what she was saying. A yellow substance wormed its way down from her left nostril, spilling over her lip. She wiped it away with her fist.

"Get up," CLU said, disgusted.

Surprisingly, the user complied, apparently aware that the game was up. CLU gave a satisfied nod.

"Now. Let's try this again. Why are you here?"

"It was an acciden—"

"There are no accidents on the Grid!" he yelled, losing his temper. "You were looking for someone. Who?"

She looked up at him, hope flashing in her eyes for the briefest of moments, before glancing away. "He's not here," she murmured.

"Who isn't here?"

She frowned and shook her head. The vacant look had returned. Fighting the now overwhelming urge to derezz her on the spot, CLU began to doubt his original belief that she was tactically feigning damage. Her behaviour didn't make sense. The more he interacted with her, the less he believed her capable of hacking into the such a complex and secure system … at least, without help from the inside …

CLU considered his options for a nanocycle before making up his mind. Silently, he derezzed his helmet. She didn't notice at first. One arm was twisted behind her back, rubbing the sore point between her shoulder blades; her gaze was fixed on some odd point in the corner of the room.

"Look at me."

It was the timbre of his undisturbed voice, rather than the command, that caught her attention. One ear tilted curiously in his direction, her frown deepening, before she finally met his gaze.

CLU expected the user to look relieved. It was the tyrant in him, wanting a hope to be crushed. He got neither of these things. Instead she let out a strangled gasp and stepped backwards, her expression caught between fear and alarm. CLU frowned, perplexed. She should have been happy to see Flynn, or at least the image of Flynn…

"Do you know who I am?"

She took another step back, the stopped herself, hearing the malignant hum of the sentry's staff close behind. Defiance hardened her features. CLU watched with impatient curiosity as her gaze darkened to an accusatory glare.

"You are _**not**_ my Dad…"

**TBC**

**A/N: Hi Guys! So … erm … although I have written fanfiction before, many moons ago, this is my first attempt at writing a Tron story. The idea wormed its way into my head after watching Tron Legacy one night, followed a few days later by the original. I won't pretend to know how my feral muse works but I guess I was intrigued by exactly how much of the user world CLU understood, given his plans for world domination. I wanted to explore how those plans came about. Plus, I thought it would be kind of funny to see him completely thrown by a small child. I decided to give Sam Flynn a little sister because … well, lets just say there's a reason I want Sam to stay in the user world for now.**

**Um, nothing really to add at this point. I've never written anything like this before and am about as computer minded as … a non-computery minded thing, so let me know if I have made any glaring errors! And, of course, if you'd like me to continue :-)**


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